


Blue Memories

by ShadowSeer



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Ghostbur, L'Manberg | L'Manburg on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-26 20:34:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30111663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowSeer/pseuds/ShadowSeer
Summary: Ghostbur builds his small library in the sewer beneath his crane in New L'manburg. But there are things he can't remember, looks between the others he can't decipher and a pain in his chest that aches at the strangest of times. Who was he once? And why are his friends and family all so sad?
Relationships: Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot
Kudos: 14
Collections: Dream SMP Fanfics, Dream SMP fics





	1. Building Home

**Author's Note:**

> I’m hoping to add updates as I write more :) Probably at least once a week or so. I’m aiming for it to end with the event of Doomsday. Feel free to leave a comment below about your fave ghostbur moment from the SMP I’m trying to piece together a story that’s as accurate as possible to the lore.

It was never meant to be.  
The words pound like a heartbeat inside his head. But his heart no longer beats.  
It was never meant to be.  
An ache came from inside his chest, from that place beneath his sweater where he never looked.  
It was never-  
“Ghostbur!”  
He jumps, head turning towards the voice. Tubbo, a book in one hand and a worried look upon his face stands there.  
“I- I’m sorry,” Ghostbur apologizes, scrubbing his hands on the front of his pants as he notices the blue oozing from his palms.  
“That’s … all right,” Tubbo’s frown slowly dissipates, but his eyes don’t hold the same excited glimmer they’d had just a moment ago. “I just wanted to know if you’d chosen a place to live yet.”  
“Oh!” A smile lifts Ghostbur’s face as he turns in the direction of the cluster of houses that are slowly being built over the large crater. L’manburg. It was once L’manburg. It is L’manburg now. That much he knows. But how it got to this state…  
He shakes his head, dismissing the difficult thoughts and pointing to a foundation he’s built. “I’m building a crane,” he tells Tubbo, walking over to the site with caution. It’s quite a long drop to the bottom after all. “And I’m going to live underneath it in the sewer.”  
“Oh!” Tubbo laughs a little as they near the foundation. “Alright then!”  
Ghostbur smiles once more, opening a nearby chest to check on his supply of spruce wood. A large portion of what had just been there appears to be… missing.  
As Tubbo walks around the crane’s foundation, Ghostbur scans the various other build sites with a critical eye. A lama a ways away spits in his direction when he spots it. Finally his eyes fall on Fundy’s house which seems to have had a whole floor added since earlier this morning. Knowing Fundy, Ghostbur doubts that he would have gone out and cut down that many trees. But he only smiles, glad to have been able to give his son something. Since becoming a ghost Ghostbur’s been having a hard time getting his son to talk to him. He’s hopeful that that will change. Especially with him living so close by.


	2. Phil?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A familiar name, an even more familiar voice. Ghostbur listens to Tubbo and Fundy speak to a man named Phil.

“Is he here?” The deep voice filters down, through the sewer grate, and into Ghostbur’s library. The accent and pitch of the voice makes Ghostbur cause in his book-shelving.   
“Phil!” Tubbo and Fundy chorus from above.   
Phil. The name is familiar. Ghostbur has to set down the book he’s holding quickly. He barely manages it in time before the blue wells up at his fingertips. He snatches up the towel on the nearby chair and scrubs at his hands.   
“Hello,” the man – Phil – says, sounding friendly. “It’s good to see you two.” There’s a pause. A long pause, the shuffling of scuffling feet in the dirt is the only thing Ghostbur’s attentive eavesdropping picks up before, “You don’t blame me… do you? For what I’ve done?”  
Ghostbur’s mind races, and, as it often does when he tries to remember things, his chest aches. Phil sounds so somber, so regretful. What, what could he have done. It has to have been fairly recent if he’s only just come to talk about it with Tubbo. Everyone seems to be talking to Tubbo as of late. Especially with him being the president. Ghostbur’s hands begin to twist the towel, threading it through his fingers before letting it fall to the floor, dark blue stains bleeding boldly across the white cloth.  
“No.” Tubbo’s reply sounds uncharacteristically heavy. “Tommy’s told us what he was like.” The next pause only adds to the dull pain in Ghostbur’s chest. “You did what had to be done Phil.”  
“Mmmm.” Phil doesn’t sound convinced. “He’s here though?”  
“Well, I don’t know if we’re really talking about the same ‘him’.” Fundy sounds angry. Ghostbur looks at the small, framed photo of the hot dog van and his comrades. Fundy’s figure in particular stands out, the little fox-boy grinning so widely. Lately he has not been so happy. Lately, Ghostbur’s little champion seems angry and sad.   
“What do you mean?” Phil asks.   
“I think its better that you see for yourself,” Tubbo replies.   
Then Ghostbur hears footsteps drawing closer. They’d been talking about him?  
Two quick steps bring Ghostbur to the small table. He snatches up the book and quill, flipping to a fresh page. Blue smears across the page as he writes Phil? Done right thing? Fundy is angry. Tubbo is sad. They are talking about me. Why? What did I do?   
“Ghostbur?” Tubbo’s voice at the door causes him to quickly shut the book and toss it into the nearest chest, hiding it between a recent book by Tommy; How to Sex and some sort of trade deal that had never been properly signed.   
“Hello!” Ghostbur says brightly, opening the door and stepping back. “Have you come to see my library?”


	3. a Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting Phil reminds Ghostbur of a few things.

The man Phil keeps giving him strange looks. The only part of the look that Ghostbur can read is the touch of sadness that tugs at the corner of his quiet smile. Ghostbur feels like he’s making the man uncomfortable. Whenever people looked at him, they always seem at least a bit sad. But when they are distraught, they don’t have blue. That’s why Ghostbur gives it to them, they always seemed to laugh a little when he places his hand atop theirs and says “here, have some blue.”

“This is incredible Ghostbur,” Tubbo says from one corner, marveling over a framed book. “I didn’t know the Declaration survived the first war.”

Ghostbur smiles proudly, turning his attention from Phil. Though his son had left as soon as Phil had been guided to the sewer, Tubbo has stayed, making small but kind remarks about Ghostbur’s newest improvements. 

“I remember that one,” he tells Tubbo, the words running through his head. “Everyone always seemed to like the ending.”

“Suck it Green Boy!” Tubbo shouts with conviction. “Of course, we liked it! It’s what we stood, er stand for.”

Phil chuckles, inserting himself into the conversation for the first time in a while, “I remember when you wrote to me about that one,” he says, looking in Ghostbur’s direction. “You were so proud.”

Surprised, Ghostbur looks back over at Phil, finding a true smile on his face for the first time since he’d entered the room. But his words cause Ghostbur to pause, frowining as another piece of his forgotten puzzle dangles before him. “You, you were who I wrote to?” For some reason, this piece of knowledge causes his chest to throb again. 

Phil’s brief expression of amusement falls back upon that quiet sadness. “Yes, I was.”

“You, you’re my father, my father Phil then!” Ghostbur’s eyes widen. “That’s right, you’re my father, Phil!”

This time, only the smallest of smiles appears on the older man’s face. “Yes, yes I am.”

Ghostbur’s glad to have his overused towel on hand when the tips of his fingers bleed blue again, leaving an awkward silence only filled by the shuffle of Tubbo’s feet as he walks around the small library.

“It looks like things are going well with building L’manburg back,” Phil says after a while, mostly addressing Tubbo.

“They are!” Tubbo agrees exuberantly, filling the silence with a smile and a hop of excitement. “I heard you were thinking of living here too.”

“I’ve scoped out some property,” Phil replies, “Fundy said it might be nice if I were nearby as well.”

“Ah,” Tubbo nods slowly, glancing once over at Ghostbur. “That’s good of you to be there for him.”

“Where is my little champion?” Ghostbur asks suddenly, hoping to skip over the silence he can feel building. 

“He… he had some building to do I think,” Tubbo stutters, looking down at the floor instead of at Ghostbur. 

It’s Ghostbur’s turn to let out a quiet, “Ah.” He knows that it’s more likely his son wanted to avoid him. It’s been over a week since Ghostbur has established himself in L’manburg and his son seems as angry as ever, refusing to stay in the same room with Ghostbur for longer than a few seconds.

It hurts, especially because no one will tell Ghostbur why this happens. 

“It will be nice to be in the same town as you too Will,” Phil says, taking it upon himself to break the silence once more.

“Ghostbur,” Ghostbur corrects him, squeezing his stained towel even tighter. 

“Ghostbur,” Phil corrects himself, finally meeting his eyes for the first time in a while. “I’ve missed you.” 

The man sounds so sincere, and carved out inside his cloudy memory are images of blue eyes, kind words and warm hugs. Dad. Phil. Philza Minecraft. The man fits with these pictures. But Ghostbur can’t help but think that this man belonged to Wilbur, a person who might not exist anymore. 

He still accepts the hug from Phil before he leaves, savoring one of the few familiar things in his life. Even hours after Phil and Tubbo have departed, Ghostbur’s left with the ache in his chest, persistently reminding him of everything he’s lost. Forever poking at the sad memories that are lost somewhere inside him.


	4. To Save a Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a ghost has its downsides, but it's never bothered Ghostbur as much as it has today. When Fundy takes a fall, Ghostbur is left with no way to help his only son.

It's fair weather once more in L'manburg and Ghostbur has just fisnished filing away his newest book, a decree authored by Tubbo. He exits his sewer library, blinking in the bright sunlight and looks out at the swiftly growing L'manburg. He's proud of how fast all the citizens have re-built the country. For the past few weeks trees have been felled, logs have been laied, and the foundations of the country have been built up into a great city. It's a testament to the resilience of his, er the, country. With a sigh, Ghostbur glances over at Fundy's house, hoping to catch a glimpse of the son whom he knows has been working hard on his own house. It's one of the biggest so far.

He catches sight of his son, balancing precariously atop the roof, laying shingles. He watches the little orange head bob as Fundy lays the shingles down, nails them and then lays down the next patch. The steady tapping sound has echoed down into Ghostbur's library for a while now, and the progress his son has made is evident. The south facing side is finished, and he's completed half of the north facing side. He smiles, taking a step forwards and contemplates calling to him. 

It's a beautiful day today, maybe his son will be more receptive to his greeting this time around.

That's when he sees Fundy tumble. There are many things Ghostbur has forgotten about his life, forgotten even about his own son. But that doesn't mean his shock and fear are any less as his son tumbles from the roof of his new house. He watches as Fundy flails, yelping and then splashing into the lake. 

"Fundy!" Ghostbur yells, racing towards the lake. 

The ripples from Fundy's splash waver out from the place where he's disappeared beneath the water. His son, stuck halfway in a fox form and unable to learn to shapeshift without his mother's guidance has never been a good swimmer. But one step into the water and Ghostbur yelps in pain. 

For the first time, his anger rises for a reason other than his clouded memories. Around every corner is a reminder that he's not quite a person anymore. Each day brings one more reminder, each reminder scatters blue across the ground around him. 

"Fundy!" he yells again, nearly screaming this time as his left foot throbs in pain. The ripples mockingly reach the bank he stands at, staring desperately out at the water.

"Ghostbur!" the deep voice is faint but audible.

Ghostbur turns around, desperately searching for the owner of the voice. "Eret!" he yells, upon spotting the man standing atop the nearby hill at the base of one of the tall grey towers.

"Ghostbur! What's wrong?" Eret starts down the hill at a light jog, his crown glinting in the light. 

"It's Fundy!" Ghostbur cries plaintively as Eret nears the edge of the lake. "He fell in!"

"What?" Eret races towards Ghostbur now, his own feet splashing easily through the shallows of the lake. "Has he surfaced?"

"No! He can't swim!"

Without another word Eret tosses off his cloak, the red fabric quickly becoming waterlogged and rumpling against the sand. Ghostbur watches as the man dives under the water. 

"Please," he begs whatever gods may exist. If he'd encountered them after dying, he doesn't remember doing so. But it doesn't stop him from pleading with the higher powers. "Please save my son."

The water is quiter for a moment, larger ripples wavering towards the bank from Eret's dive. If Ghostbur had had a beating heart, he's sure that it would be pounding now. Instead, he's left trembling at the end of the lake, frantically scanning the water. Bubbles surface, and then a hand thrashes above the water. Ghostbur leans out over the lake as much as he can, careful not to touch the water but desperate to get even inches closer to his son. Then Fundy's head surfaces, he's coughing and spluttering but his two pointed ears twitch. He's alive.

"Fundy!" Ghostbur calls, jumping back as a tiny wave splashes a bit too close to him. "Fundy!"

Eret's head surfaces next, the SMP's king spluttering a bit himself. With a few strokes, he reaches the bank, hauling Fundy with him.

Ghostbur races to Fundy and Eret, putting a hand to his son's shoulder only to snatch it back as his skin begins to burn red. Ghosts and water are two things that are not supposed to mix. So, it's Eret who gently moves Fundy into a position where he can cough better, water trickling from his mouth.

"Are you alright Fundy?" Eret asks a moment later when Fundy's body has stopped shaking.

"Yes, yes," the fox man gasps. "Thank you Eret."

"Of course," the man replies. "I'm here for you."

Ghosrbur looks down as his slightly burnt hands and spots blue once again trickling down his fingers and plopping into the sand. Each drop creates an unnaturally dark blue circle on the pale sand. He stands there, letting the blue leak from his fingers as the man who rules the rival country comforts his son.


End file.
